by Ava O'Shay
Tranquility
By
Ava O’Shay
Copyright © 2015, Ava O’Shay
All rights reserved. Ebooks are not transferable. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage system without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Edited by Kara Leigh Miller
Cover Art by Raven Books and Design Book design by Raven Books and Design
Photograph: Michael Meadows, Lance Jones ISBN: 978-1-942748-57-1
Publisher’s Note:
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Raven Books and Design, LLC electronic publication: 2015 Raven Books and Design, LLC Dryden, WA United States of America
http://avaoshayromance.blogspot.com
Dedication:
To Robert who lived his life to love.
Table of Contents
.one
.two
.three
.four
.five
.six
.seven
.eight
.nine
.ten
.eleven
.twelve
.thirteen
.fourteen
.fifteen
.sixteen
.seventeen
.eighteen
.nineteen
.twenty
.twenty-one
.twenty-two
.twenty-three
.twenty-four
.twenty-five
.twenty-six
.twenty-seven
.twenty-eight
.twenty-nine
.thirty
.thirty-one
.thirty-two
.thirty-three
.thirty-four
.thirty-five
.thirty-six
.thirty-seven
.thirty-eight
.thirty-nine
.forty
About the Author
Acknowledgements:
Excerpt from Serenity:
.one
Quill Diaz
September 9
7:00 p.m.
The minute Quill walked into the house, he knew he was in trouble.
“Quill, I’m glad you’re here. I was expecting you earlier.” Mrs. Daniel, the mom of his sister’s current boyfriend, and his landlord, Brenda, were sitting on the couch.
“Had class,” Quill said.
“Yeah?” Her voice hesitated, and she glanced around. “We wanted to talk to you.”
“Shit. Mother fucker,” Quill muttered under his breath. He was going to kick Jolin’s ass. “Jolin doesn’t know why we asked you here. Don’t blame him,” Brenda said.
It didn’t matter if he knew or not, Quill was going to take it out on him. It was his mom leading this witch hunt.
“Come in and sit down.” She waved toward a chair. “I don’t really,” he started.
“Sit. We’d like to talk to you. It will only take a minute,” she interrupted.
He clenched his fists, envisioning plowing one into Jolin’s face, then sat down in the chair she’d pointed at.
“I was wondering if you’d thought anymore about going to counseling.” “Fuck,” he muttered.
“Quill,” she warned.
“Yeah, sorry. And no. I haven’t thought about it because I don’t need a fu… I mean, I’m not seeing a counselor.”
Brenda leaned forward. “You seem kind of lost. It helps to talk about it.”
Quill laughed. “I’m not lost. I’m here being ambushed in my fucking ex-friend’s living room.”
Mrs. Daniel reached out and placed a hand on Quill’s arm. “We’re all concerned about you. Both you and Ren. And please stop swearing in my house.”
Quill got up fast, pushing her hand away. “Look Mrs. D. I appreciate all you do for us, but I’m not your kid. My shit is my shit. Don’t worry about.”
Mrs. Daniel shrunk back at his words. He hated that he’d hurt her. But they had a mom, a mom that left them to fend for themselves and that was what he was doing. He didn’t need her making him feel bad about it.”
“Drugs, sex, and drinking is not having your shit together.” Brenda stood and came toward him. “Whether you admit it or not, shit happened when you were with your mom. Only you know what it was, but living your life stoned and sleeping around is not the answer.”
Quill ran his fingers through his hair and looked at the ceiling, taking a deep breath. He did not want to be having this conversation. He was not going to tell anyone about the men and women his mother brought into his life or details about the way he lived his life now, his sex life was most definitely not up for discussion.
“I have everything under control. I’m not the one out blowing men for money. Why don’t you drag Ren’s ass in here for a pow wow?”
“You don’t have everything under control. You are so fucked up half the time you didn’t even know Ren was in trouble,” Brenda shouted at him.
“Stop. This is supposed to be a discussion not a fight.” Mrs. Daniel held up her hands. “Both of you stop swearing in my house!”
“It’s the only language he knows,” Brenda yelled back.
Quill turned on Brenda. “You don’t think I know I fucked up? I know she almost died while I was in the next room high and screwing some chick. But you know what?” He stopped and tried to pull himself together. He hated that they got him worked up like this. He pointed a finger in Brenda’s face. “You know what, you fucking busy body? I have taken it up the ass over and over for her, and I can’t be there every fucking second of the day to watch her stupid ass. I can only do so much.” He knew they didn’t understand the extent of his words. He’d used a common expression, one he was sure they took as simply meaning he’d sacrificed for her in the past. When in actuality, he was simply speaking the horrible truth.
Brenda shook her head. “She says the exact same thing, Quill. In her own twisted way, she sees what she does as a way of protecting you. Which is why counseling is so important.”
“I don’t need a shrink.”
“Quill.” Mrs. Daniel touched his arm.
He recoiled. He didn’t deserve their compassion, and he didn’t want it. “I got to go. I’m good. No worries.”
“You aren’t good,” Jolin’s mom pushed. “There are diseases out there.”
“Oh. My. God.” He laughed. “That’s what this is about? Relax. I wrap it up. I don’t ride bareback. And I don’t shoot up, so no needles either. God. I’m not a total idiot.”
“Quill,” Brenda warned.
“I’m not doing this with you. I am not discussing my fuck habits or what drugs I enjoy taking. The birds and bees and hazards of drug use family meeting boat sailed years ago. My mom believed in teaching by example. I’m a product of my fucked up environment, and I’m getting by. I’m in fucking college. I cut my fucking hair. What more to you want from me?
I’m fucking fine! Leave me alone,” he yelled then rushed out the door with one destination in mind: The Warehouse Club.
Quill parked in the lot and dug around his car until he came up with an old bag of pot. “Fucking idiot to listen to that prick,” he rambled on while packing weed into the pipe he’d dug out of the glove box. He lit up and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes, waiting for it to work its magic. “Shit. Mother fucker.” He slammed his hand against the dash. “Fucking old shit.” He pulled the smoke in again. He needed to relax before he went inside or
he would be looking for a fight.
He knew he was a screw up. He didn’t need everyone else confirming it. The lump forming in his throat was growing, and the pot wasn’t helping. Quill swiped at his eyes, his hands coming away wet as the tears fell. He knew it was his fault Ren got into trouble last year. He knew it was his job to protect her, and he sucked at it.
“God dammit.” Quill tossed the pipe into the console and yanked the car door open. He needed alcohol and an easy lay to get out of the funk they had put him in. Who were they to tell him his coping mechanisms were fucked up? He hadn’t gotten high in at least a week. What did they know about his life? They didn’t know how hard he tried to get through each day without making a mess of it.
Once inside, it only took a minute for him to pick his mark. The girl dancing in the middle of the stage was going to get the honor of his dick tonight.
Occasionally, the owner would let the local college bands play and tonight this girl was belting out a mix between pop and rock in an outfit no mother would approve of. But Lordy he sure did. Short skirt, tight, half shirt, and do-me heels, what more could he ask for?
He threw his last twenty bucks on the counter to purchase a yellow bracelet announcing he was twenty-one and paid his keg fee, allowing him to drink his weight in beer during The Warehouse’s all you can drink night. The Warehouse carded, but Quill had taken care of his lack of years a long time ago for a hundred bucks in a sketchy ally. As soon as he walked through the doors, he was no longer an eighteen-year-old college freshman.
“Who’s up tonight?” Quill nodded toward the stage before chugging the beer he’d been given. It tasted like shit, but a few more and he wouldn’t care. He should have scored more weed before coming here. The shit he’d dug up from dredges of his car lacked punch and barely got him where he wanted to go… oblivion.
“The Devil’s Dudes. Had them here the past couple weekends. You’ve been MIA. Thought maybe the cops finally caught your ass.” The guy behind the bar wiped down the rough wood of the makeshift counter.
Quill grabbed another plastic cup, flipping him off before turning around to watch the lead singer.
She was tiny, definitely not a dude, but could have been the devil in disguise with the way her body moved. Pure sin on a stick. Her hair was cut short in the back with longer blue wisps hanging across her forehead. Dark eyeliner encircled each eye; it was difficult to tell the color of her eyes from where he was standing. Her tiny size made her look fragile, but the power her voice held rocked the room. His stomach clenched when she held out the last note of the song. Music had always been his escape. He and Ren were taken from their mom when they were eight. They’d been bounced around in foster homes, and somewhere along the road, he’d acquired a guitar. He’d never had lessons, but he had an ear for music and could play anything after hearing it once.
Now he’d like to play her. Jesus she was incredible.
The hair on the back of his neck started to prickle as he watched the lead guitar move to stand way too close to his chosen fuck of the night. The band was made up of a rocker chick, the lead singer, a drummer, the electric guitar, and a bass player. It looked like she was the only girl, but the bass player was questionable. The individual had a yellow dew rag wrapped around its head with only a thin chunk of black hair sticking out. If he had to guess, Quill would have said it was a guy, but the muscle shirt and strange skirt it was wearing made distinction of its sex difficult. When the mystery band member stood up to the mic to provide back-up vocals, he felt pretty confident in his guess at it being male. Too bad, there was something about him that appealed to Quill.
Remembering his goal for the evening, Quill focused on rocker chick again. More than likely she was already involved with someone in the band. Isn’t that how it worked? But he didn’t care. Since the shit hit the fan with his mom last year, he’d been celibate and trying to be a better person. Ren, his twin sister, had gotten the shit beat out of her, and then nearly overdosed herself into the looney bin at a going away party his mom set up because they were getting evicted. He was too wasted to even know what was going on, and she could have died. Probably would have if Jolin, her boyfriend, hadn’t shown up and white horsed her. Quill wanted to white horse someone, save the day and have them fall in love with him despite the scars of his past, but it wasn’t in his cards. He was an asshole, and no matter how hard he tried, he always fell back into that role.
He downed another drink and reached down to shift his dick in the front of his pants. She was hot, but it was something more. He needed to bury himself balls deep in someone tonight, and he wanted it to be her. Her skin glistened with sweat and the chunk of blue hair stuck to the side of her face. He licked his lips. He was so horny he could probably come right there if she just breathed on him. Her skirt was so short he was sure if he worked his way up to the front of the stage, he could probably get a glimpse of her pussy. Quill closed his eyes and cracked his neck. Probably what the guys standing along the edge of the stage were already doing. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. The pot usually mellowed him, but seeing other guys honing in on his catch of the night, along with the need to beat the shit out of Jolin for his betrayal, made him want to bust some ass.
“You want her name?” bartender guy yelled.
Quill shook his head. “Nope.” He didn’t do relationships. He didn’t do names if he could help it. Sometimes it couldn’t be avoided, especially if he’d gone to high school with them or worked with them. He was running out of girls in his close proximity to bang, so this new opportunity was refreshing. Having started college made the pickings a bit broader, but since he had been on a hiatus due to guilt over Ren, he hadn’t really utilized the opportunity. He was ready to change that tonight.
The set ended and the band turned around in unison to grab beverages off the back of the stage. The crowd yelled in appreciation then headed to the bar to get their own drinks.
Quill pushed off the edge of the bar where he’d been leaning and began his mission.
Rarely did he experience rejection. Even if she had a boyfriend, more than likely she would do whatever he asked. Call it a curse or a blessing, but his looks and personality were by far superior to the men in the room. Jolin’s mom had taken him to get his hair styled before graduation, and the girls had lined up to blow him. But his self-imposed sentence of celibacy was ending tonight. Pussy was never an issue, and he needed it now. And little rocker girl was going to give it to him.
“Hey.” He nodded at the bassist, the only band member still on the stage.
The guy or girl… the she-man nodded back in unspoken guy language. The thick lock of dark hair hung over an eye. Its skin was a light brown and completely clear of any blemishes.
The baggy tank hid any indication of breasts. Quill was beginning to doubt his initial guess at its sex due to the heavy eyeliner drawn around clear, golden eyes. Whether it was a man or a girl, the bassist was strikingly attractive. Unfortunately, he had his eye on the little lead singer; he’d pick up this one later.
“What’s the deal with the lead singer?”
The she-man put its guitar down and squatted down so they were almost eye to eye. “No deal. You need something?”
“To bury myself inside her,” Quill said with drunken bravado.
The bassist laughed, which kind of irritated him, but he was too far gone to really care. “What?”
“She doesn’t do groupies.”
Its voice was low and smooth… Quill wavered again… probably a guy. “I’m not a groupie.”
“Everyone is a groupie.” The guy straightened and yelled something toward the side of the stage. Camri or Annie or something… Quill didn’t want to know. The girl peeked out from behind a partition. Her eyes were black, and he couldn’t read any emotion from them, but it could have been the distance or the haze happily filling his head. He tried to stand casually and not sway.
“She isn’t interested.” The bassist turned back. “
Interested in what?”
“Anything to do with you.”
“She doesn’t even know me, and you didn’t ask her.”
“Look, dude. I’m taking mercy on you. She isn’t into this scene. She does it for the music and to blow off steam.”
“That’s all I’m looking for… to blow off… “ Quill smiled. “Well, to blow off something.” “Dude. She is a classical music major. She does this as an outlet to her music, not an outlet to her pussy. But if you’re interested in a blow.” The guy leveled his stare on Quill.
Quill narrowed his eyes, and then looked over the bassist’s shoulder to where the girl had been watching him. She’d disappeared during their conversation.
“I’m up for an adventure if you are.” He ran his tongue over his upper lip. “Not my thing.”
The bassist raised an eyebrow. “Never know until you try.”
Quill tried to focus his semi stoned eyes on the half guy half girl. Maybe it was a girl. A kind of buff girl with a deep voice. He let his eyes fall to its crotch.
“All man down there baby.”
“Yeah. Not for me.” Quill spit on the floor and moved back to the bar, away from the overt come on from the guy. If he needed a woman before, he definitely needed one now. If it wasn’t the rocker chick then he’d find someone else. It’d be her loss.
As if on cue, a girl shimmied up to him. “Looking for someone?”
“You… in the bathroom in five.” He kept his eyes on the spot the rocker chick had been.
He didn’t need to see the girl leaning on the bar next to him. He just needed a pussy to bury himself in. After a few months of abstinence and a come on from a guy, he needed take a woman hard. “Game?” He tilted his latest cup of beer up, draining it in one pull.
Her demeanor didn’t seem affected. “Why five?” she purred.
Quill pulled his baseball hat around until it sat backward on his head, grabbed her hand, and dragged her across the dance floor into a poorly lit hallway to the bathrooms.
The hall was dark except for a bare bulb toward the back. He was thankful for the darkness and the elusion it added to his task. With a tug, he had the girl against the wall, his hands roughly cupping her face, and his mouth hard against hers. His hips grinded into her, supporting her as her knees went weak. He took her mouth with a hunger of a guy who had waited way too long to take what he needed from a woman. A guy who needed to prove he was in control… even if it was only for the short time it took to nail this girl. Quill was skirting close to the edge of a losing it and was trying to suck energy out of his latest victim. Sex was the goal of his drunken, drug-filled weekends. When the world closed in and depression engulfed him, he self-medicated. He wouldn’t allow feelings to sneak in, unless it was the feeling of a woman letting him take her hard. He’d tortured himself by abstaining. Punished himself for not being there for Ren and all it did was make it worse. He needed to release the ball of self-loathing lodged in his chest. He needed to replace the overwhelming feeling of worthlessness with something else and what better than an orgasm.